


Gotta Pray My Bones Won't Lie (In the Middle of this Wasted Town)

by dilapidatedcorvid



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 14:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilapidatedcorvid/pseuds/dilapidatedcorvid
Summary: She wonders how beautiful Beau would have been back then when she had all the time in the world to choose her outfits, to wear makeup not two years expired and left on for days at a time to make it last.She wonders if she would have survived their meeting, or if Molly would have had to call the ambulance while she had a heart attack.or, Beauyasha in the time of zombies.





	Gotta Pray My Bones Won't Lie (In the Middle of this Wasted Town)

Yasha doesn't notice that Beau hasn’t noticed her. At least not until she sees Beau.

That's not to say she doesn't see Beau regularly. That's the problem with surviving a zombie apocalypse - the area you can safely defend from hordes is relatively small and there are always more people than fits comfortably in the haven. There's seven of them shoved into a shack of a house within the walls she calls home, and they're lucky. Only one of them has to sleep on the floor. Other houses aren't so fortunate.

But of course, that's drifting from the subject at hand, which is seeing Beau. _Seeing_ Beau. Yasha will be honest, she's spent plenty of time looking at Beau. Beau sleeps in the same room as her, sprawled out like a cat above a set of shelves layered in pillows and duvets Yasha has always been convinced will eventually tip over from the way Beau parkours up them.

It's not like there's a way to avoid looking at Beau. Not when she spends more time in the house shirtless than not, and certainly not when she's managed to DIY a pull-up bar on the doorframe that creaks every time she lifts her chin over the repurposed hockey net frame with an end cut so haphazardly it could be used as a weapon and has probably given some poor bloke tetanus at some point.

But now Beau sits at the top of the wall, legs dangling over like Yasha's told her not to _so_ many times, whistling quietly to herself as the sun rises over hills, her arms slung around the staff resting over her shoulders.

She's glowing. Tawny skin a brilliant gold around the edges as the sky pinkens, the blues of her favourite shirt blowing in the gentle breeze, those dorky goggles they found one time while scavenging for goods in an old antiques shop resting on her head. Yasha hadn't known Beau before the apocalypse sent them all running for their lives, struck distrust into everyone's hearts.

She wonders how beautiful Beau would have been back then when she had all the time in the world to choose her outfits, to wear makeup not two years expired and left on for days at a time to make it last.

She wonders if she would have survived their meeting, or if Molly would have had to call the ambulance while she had a heart attack.

But here she stands, on the stairs up to the top of their walls, hidden by shadow as the sun warms Beau's cheek, utterly captivated by the woman in front of her.

Slowly, she removes the heavy grey flannel around her shoulders and climbs up the rest of the steps to lay the jacket over Beau's shoulders.

"You'll get a cold."

Beau startles enough that Yasha thinks she's just about to topple off the wall, but Beau stills instantly when she realises who it is.

"Fuck, you scared me."

"You weren't paying attention."

Beau rolls her eyes. "I was paying attention! I was looking for zombs in front of me."

Yasha huffs a laugh and she sits beside Beau, feet safely on the side of the wall that doesn't plummet fifty feet down.

"And yet the threat came from behind."

"Asshole. Come on, let me take a look at your hand."

Yasha lifts her bandaged hand up for inspection. She had sliced open her right palm from heel to between her index and middle finger a few days ago tilling soil, effectively putting the garden at stake with the only farmer with any sort of experience now relegated to lookout while her hand heals. She's lucky Caduceus was there to help her, or her temporary vacation would have been more permanent.

Beau carefully unwraps the bandages and hisses at the sight of caked blood and pus.

"That's going to leave a gnarly scar. I hear guys dig scars."

"Do chicks?"

Her hand looks so small in Beau's rough ones, the callouses on the monk's hands from scaling sheer cliffs by hand slowly disappearing.

Beau just looks at her, a small amused smile on her face. She doesn't answer. She also doesn't let go of Yasha's hand.

Clouds pass and the wind blows and Yasha hears the beginning sounds of life stirring from sleep below them.

"I wish this whole thing never happened." Yasha finally says, breaking what feels like an hour of silence.

"What, the outbreak?"

Yasha shrugs. "I guess. My dairy cows would probably still be alive today if it didn't."

Beau hums.

"Always liked seeing my cows and crops more than people. And now we gotta live like sardines."

Beau nods. She understands.

"Molly wouldn't have minded. The closeness and the people, I mean. At least he's not a shambler."

Beau's thumb strokes slowly over the back of her hand comfortingly. Everyone knows what she had to do is a sensitive subject.

"Sometimes I wonder if I should have just let the shamblers take me."

Beau scoffs. "That's ridiculous. Don't think like that."

"At least I would have the world to wander."

Silence. Uncomfortable silence.

"But then who would tell me to stop dangling my feet over the wall and keep me from catching a cold?"

Yasha shrugs. "I'm sure you would have found someone. Everyone does."

More uncomfortable silence.

"But they wouldn't be you."

Yasha looks down at her lap. "I don't know that it's such a bad thing."

Beau frowns. "Don't say that."

So Yasha doesn't say anything. Just keeps her hand in Beau's and watches the sun rise and warm Beau's face.

Beau. Who's looking at her intently now, almost too much to bear.

"Something is troubling you."

Well that's to the point. Beau's never been one to beat around the bush.

"It's nothing."

"It's me, isn't it?"

Well yes, but not like that, and Yasha doesn't quite have the words to convey why yet.

"No."

Both of Beau's hands now rest on hers. "Then tell me, please."

Yasha sighs. "Another day."

Beau releases her hand and Yasha takes it back, wrapping the bandages again.

"Your watch is over."

"I want to spend it with you."

So they sit there in silence until the sun is high in the sky and the town beneath them comes to life, just another day in a zombie-run world.

She barely notices it. The brush of their pinkies against each other, the turn of a head, and Beau leaning ever so much closer, until Yasha turns to ask if she needs food and finds herself nose to nose with Beau.

"I- uh..."

Beau kisses her.

Square on the lips on impulse and Yasha makes an undignified squeak that seems to shock Beau out of her moment in paradise.

"Fuck, fuck I'm so sorry, I have no idea why-"

Yasha doesn't let her finish her sentence, kissing her deep in return, hands framing Beau's face.

For a brief moment, everything else in the world stops and all is good. All is right.

Beau's lips are chapped but soft under hers, and she tastes faintly like mint toothpaste and the dirt that perpetually gets everywhere dirt should never be, and it's perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Until there's a gasp, and the two of them break away instantly, whipping towards the source of the sound.

Yasha can't see who made it, but apparently, Beau can.

She sighs. "Jester, I know you're there."

Jester peeks out from behind the stairs, looking a little embarrassed.

"Sorry." She mumbles, "I was just wondering where you were, Beau. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Mistakes happen." Beau pats the wall on the other side of her and beckons Jester to sit. "As long as you didn't mean to do it."

Jester perches there, tail swishing nervously for a while until Yasha smiles at her. "It's okay."

"Does this mean you're together now?"

Yasha looks to Beau, who looks back just as curious for an answer.

"I don't know, Jessie, maybe. We just… well, I think it's something we'll have to talk about." Beau replies honestly and Yasha's never been more thankful for Beau's knowledge of handling social situations like this where she's pretty sure she'd just run if she was alone with Jester.

"Does this mean that if I made a bet with Fjord..."

Beau's eyes narrow. "Jessie..."

Jester squeals and flees from the wall down the stairs with Beau hot on her heels chasing her while shouting loud enough to spook the chickens while Yasha just laughs.

It's good. Living in the compound with her friends. She doesn't have her cows anymore, or her farm, and Beau doesn't have her mountains to climb, but they have each other. And isn't that enough?

She watches Beau tackle Jester onto the ground fifty feet below her in the town and she smiles. Yes, it's absolutely enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Yasha misses her favourite dairy cow, Miss Splotches, y'all. I can't get Farmer!Yasha out of my head and also, yes, she *does* in fact wield a tractor's 54-inch cutting blade as a sword in the case of a zombie threat.
> 
> Title from Long Way Down by Taylor Phelan
> 
> Tumblr: frumpkinspocketdimension  
Discord: SweetBabyRae#0967


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